Weasley Genes
by PleaseWorkThisTime
Summary: Red hair wasn't the only thing passed down through the Weasley bloodline. "I'm a monster" "You are not a monster, Ron. You're a Weasley"
1. In The Beginning: Chapter 1

Weasley Genes

Molly Weasley was tired. Every day was the same as the last; little Ginny would wake up first and sneak across the hall to wake Fred and George. Together, the three of them would come up with some heinous way to get either Percy or Ron out of bed. The last three days Ron was the victim to their rude awakenings. First it was discretely pouring warm water around his legs; they were _still_ teasing him about "wetting the bed." The next morning they had mixed together a concoction of pepper and toothpaste and smeared it on his face and arms before making a quick get-away. Poor Ronald had awoken soon after to the unpleasant burning irritation the paste had caused his skin. Despite her warnings the three struck again, they stuck spiders in his bed. Much to Molly's dismay she had spent the morning calming a hiccupping weepy Ron into a nap on the sofa. Was it bad of her to be relieved her two eldest were away at Hogwarts?

Molly was quickly tidying up the remains of breakfast before she started on lunch. Oh lunch, Molly did take pride in her cooking but maybe she could keep it simple today, sandwiches maybe? Just as she reached for a loaf of bread she had made yesterday a horrible cacophony from the living room met her ears. Ron was crying, Ginny was screaming and the twins were shouting. Molly made her way quickly to see what problems her devious children had caused now.

As she entered the room she stood in shock for a moment. Frustration bubbled up as she took in the state of Fred and George. There they stood covered in soot with their hair blown straight up, a smouldering bucket lay at their feet. The four children froze when they saw her enter, eyes wide. Molly just wanted a day of peace, just one day, was that too much to ask? Of course it was. It was ridiculous, she had warned and scolded and threatened with punishment but this was the last straw. Just as Molly's face turned an interesting shade of red Percy burst in, his father's reading glasses askew on his nose.

"Mother! Can you please stop Fred and George from making so much noise? I'm trying to study! I leave for Hogwarts next year and I'm only half-way through Bill's old textbooks," Percy complained loudly. "Can't we just lock them outside or something? Look at-"

"Room Percy." Molly interrupted him.

"But Mother-" Percy whined only to be cut off again by an angrier by the minute Mrs Weasley.

"Go to your room Percy. I need to talk with your brothers and sister."

Recognizing her tone of voice Percy made a quick exit before the yelling started, there was no way he wanted around for that. Even though he did get a lot of satisfaction from seeing his younger siblings get in trouble, he would rather stay away so he didn't accidently irritate his mother and bring her wrath upon him. Plus, he really did need to study; there were only nine months until he left for Hogwarts.

* * *

It had been a long day for Arthur Weasley and he was very much looking forward to having some of his wife's, no doubt delicious, supper. Gathering his jacket he left for the apparition point where he could transport himself home to the Burrow. Personally, Arthur would prefer using the Floo system, but the resulting ashy mess it made in his living room just wasn't worth it. It was a little way he could help out Molly in keeping things clean. It was a short walk to the designated apparition point, one of the perks of working in MOMA - Misuse of Muggle Artefacts that is.

With a quick turn and a snap, Arthur appeared just outside the gates of his home. Whistling a jolly tune, he ambled up towards his irregular house and the warm welcoming light spilling through the windows. As he drew near though, an unsettling feeling dropped into his gut- it was quiet. An ordinary wizard may not find anything odd about a silent house, but Arthur's family? Oh no, they were anything but quiet. The feeling of unease grew as he reached the door, his happy tune puttering out. With great care, Arthur gripped his wand and raised it shakily before moving to open the door. Yes, You-Know-Who had been defeated by little Harry Potter. The thing is, You-Know-Who wasn't his only enemy. Deatheaters and self-righteous purebloods (they were the same people more often than not) had always looked down on his family and their defence of muggles. Taking a deep breath, Arthur opened the door. The creaking of the floorboards under his feet was almost deafening within the silence. Spotting no indication of trouble, Arthur crept into the living room where he finally got a glimpse of his family. Well, one of them at least.

"Molly?"

A sniffle was her only reply. There she sat, huddled on the corner of the sofa, knees pulled up to her chest. Arthur couldn't help but think she looked like a lost a child. That wasn't right though, Molly was strong – she always had been. Arthur quickly closed the gap between them and settled himself gently next to his wife.

"Molly… What is it? What's wrong?" Arthur questioned, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to rest against his chest.

Molly huffed out a sob, "Its-" she cut herself off with a sniffle. "It's Ron. He… I think he has it Arthur. Oh Merlin, my poor baby."

Arthur's brow crinkled in confusion as his wife continued to cry softly. What did Ron have? Dragon Pox maybe? That wouldn't explain Molly's reaction. His wife was truly upset, it must be something big. For the life of him Arthur couldn't think of what… but yes… he could. There it was, sitting at the back of his mind. It was absurd, it couldn't be what he thought; it hadn't affected the Weasley line for decades.

"Please Molly, you have to explain," Arthur pleaded, moving his hand to raise her face to look at him.

"_It _Arthur! He has _it_. The twins and Ginny were trying to play another prank on Ronnie- something about pond water and chicken droppings. The bucket was melted Arthur. Melted and burnt and it was still hot," Molly's voice wavered out from her anxious rambling.

Arthur almost sighed with relief, Molly had worried about this with Bill and Charlie too. "That doesn't mean he has _it_, dear. It could easily have been accidental mag-"

"I couldn't fix it" she broke in.

"What?"

"The bucket Arthur, I tried to fix it but it wouldn't… it just- I couldn't. No matter what I tried. We both know what that means." She finished with conviction.

So both husband and wife sat in silence, letting this revelation sink in. It was true then, their youngest son had inherited the rare gift that belonged to the Weasley bloodline. Red hair wasn't the only thing that ran in Arthur's family. That didn't make it any less of a surprise.

Arthur really did sigh then, a weight settling on his shoulders, "Ron will be okay, Molly. We can teach him to control it."

"That's exactly it! He has to learn, he'll have to keep this secret his whole life. If the Ministry ever found out that there was a wizard who had control over one of the elements… who knows what they would do to him. There hasn't been a known witch or wizard with that kind of power for centuries." Molly was getting worked up again. "People are greedy in our world, especially those who work at the ministry."

Arthur ran a hand though his hair, he didn't need Molly to tell him how much danger his family was in. What happened to Arthur's Great Great Uncle was proof of what the consequences would be: death, destruction, and endless amounts of pain for everyone involved.

Arthur began slowly, "It'll be alright. Our son was given a gift-"

Molly scoffed but held her tongue, listening to what her husband had to say,

"We _will _get through this, we are a family. We are strong. We can't get rid of Ron's ability, but that doesn't mean we are going to give up. We're going to fight for our family, Molly. And we're going to win."

Arthur held her gaze and watched as the fire returned to his wife's eyes. Molly gave a strong nod.

"You're right, of course you're right," she muttered as she shared a tight embrace with Arthur Weasley; the amazing, hard-working father of her children.

Molly pulled back slightly so she could speak, "Should we go talk to him? All of the kids are in their rooms, we could explain everything now."

"No darling, it's been a long day. We can tell him in the morning, I think we all need a little rest. Shall we?" Arthur asked, holding out a hand.

Molly gave him a chaste kiss before gripping his hand, gaining comfort from the contact. Arthur smiled tiredly and together Mr and Mrs Weasley traveled the stairs and halls of the Burrow to their bedroom. Soon after they slid under the covers they drifted off into a deep sleep. Tomorrow and the days ahead would bring new troubles, but for tonight; everything was going to be just fine.


	2. In The Beginning: Chapter 2

Weasley Genes

In The Beginning - Chapter Two

**I See Fire **by **Ed Sheeran **is the inspiration for this chapter and pretty much the entire story.

* * *

Bill fidgeted for what must have been the hundredth time, if the irritated glances from the other students in the train compartment were any indication. His fingers began tapping an uneven rhythm against his legs.

"Merlin! What is wrong with you Weasley?" the Ravenclaw boy across from him snapped.

"Nothing," Bill shot back with a roll of his eyes, though his fingers continued their tapping.

_It's not a lie _Bill thought. There was nothing wrong with him, in fact he should've been quite happy. He was heading home for summer break, his last summer break really. He only had one more year of school left, something that made him feel both excited and slightly nostalgic. So no, he was fine – _but my family may not be. _

The Ravenclaw looked at him with extreme disbelief. Heaving a sigh, Bill stood slowly and stretched out his stiff legs. The train had only completed two hours of its long journey to Kings Cross Station, but to him it felt like an eternity. Bill exited the compartment, closing the door behind him and paused, letting his hand travel over his pocket where he knew the reason for his anxiety lay. With little hesitation he shoved his hand into his pocket and yanked out the crumpled letter. With a surge of determination Bill went off down the carriage, he needed to find his brother.

Thankfully Bill managed to locate his brother fairly quickly. A glance through the window of the door showed him Charlie curled up against the window soaking in the sunlight with a book. Bill clenched the letter a little tighter between his fingers, further wrinkling the parchment, and entered. Ignoring what looked like two first years stuck in the corner giggling over chocolate frog cards, he made his way over to the other ginger.

"You should stick to the shade Charlie; I don't think you need any more freckles," Bill quipped with a tight smirk.

Charlie's head jerked up, and he sent a mild glare to his older brother at the comment before responding, "I think you should be more concerned about your own freckly face."

Their normal banter brought out a small genuine smile on Bill's face, it only took one glance at the book Charlie was reading and his smile grew.

"Fantastic Beasts again? I thought you had it memorized by now." Bill said, glancing over at the book to see it opened to the dragons section. _Not a surprise. _"And what _is_ your dragon of the day?"

At the topic of dragons Charlie immediately perked up.

"The Ukrainian Ironbelly,"he gushed. "They can weigh up to six tonnes, Bill! Six tonnes! It's incredible, look!" Charlie pulled Bill down next to him and plopped the book in his lap.

As Charlie nattered on about the dragon, Bill took in the animated drawing of it. It was a huge grey beast with blood red eyes and vicious looking claws. The drawing depicted it carrying off a sailing boat while puffing smoke and the odd spark from its snout. _And this is what he wants to spend his life around_. The idea of his brother and dragons together was unsettling, but Charlie loved them and Bill loved Charlie, so he would deal with it. _We're family. _

Bill was the oldest- he was supposed to look after his little brothers and sister. His hand was starting to stick to the parchment from holding it so tightly. His smile disappeared.

"I mean they're so massive they're actually slow compared to other dragons. The speeds they can reach are still impressive – _they are dragons_, but strength is their main asset. Just look at those wings! The bone structure is-"

"Charlie," Bill interrupted his rambling.

Looking only slightly annoyed he asked, "What?"

Bill, glanced over at the first years and addressed them awkwardly, "Uh, hey, do think you could move to another compartment for a bit? I need to speak to my brother about… a um, personal matter."

They stared.

"Now, please," Bill huffed finally, and the first years were spurred into action; gathering their cards and leaving with only a confused backward glance.

Bill looked down at his ever moving hands and the parchment they held. He could feel his brother's eyes boring into the side of his head. Sighing and rubbing at his tired eyes, Bill turned to meet his brother's stare.

"Personal matter?" Charlie asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Have you noticed anything odd about the letters we've been getting from home the past couple months?" Bill questioned, searching his brother for any indication that he _had_ noticed.

"No. Why?" Charlie replied, his left eyebrow rising to join the other.

"Here, read this," Bill demanded -shoving the letter onto Charlie's lap then proceeded to look at him expectantly.

Finally Charlie unfolded it, sending weird looks to his brother all the while. He attempted to smooth out the parchment on his lap before giving up. Bringing the letter closer to his face, Charlie began to read aloud.

"_Dear Bill, I can't believe next year will be your last. Your father and I are so pleased that you have been putting so much effort into your grades. We are so proud. My sweet little boy-"_

"No. No, skip to the part from the twins," Bill interrupted his brother, a slight blush on his pale face. "Look here," he pointed to the right section.

With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Charlie read on, "_It's like he's their favourite kid. Dad's been spending all his time with him. Mum is too. Yesterday they both took Ronnie out for the entire afternoon. They hired a sitter! A sitter Bill! As if Gred and I can't be left alone! It wasn't too bad, we did manage to prank her pretty well. She's so boring -we had to do something. She was angry but she's just a sitter, can't really do much. I think Percy is in love with her, because they're both boring. We can't wait until you and Charlie come home. Can you two teach us how to fly your brooms this summer? We were planning this one prank that's on the next level, in more ways than one."_

"Do you see what I mean?" Bill asked as the other red head's voice trailed off.

Charlie had a small frown on his face as he continued to stare at the words, "They hired a sitter." He spoke slowly, trying to make sense of what that could mean.

"Exactly," Bill exclaimed. "It's weird right? Dad taking time off from work, him and Mum going off with Ron, and they actually hired someone to watch the boys and Ginny! Even if Mum _didn't _hate the idea of a sitter, I know they don't have much money to spend on anything other than necessities. Why would they use it _just_ to take Ron out?" he ranted, feeling better at finally speaking his thoughts.

"You think something is wrong with Mum and Dad?"

"No." Bill's voice took on a grim tone, "I think something's wrong with Ron."

The boys shared a moment of silence as their minds turned over the information. Bill was so relieved that it wasn't just his own paranoia that made him suspicious of the contents of that letter. Charlie thought something was weird too. Thinking on that only made Bill's fear grow – because that meant there really _was_ something happening with Ron. Something his parents hadn't told him, and from the sounds of it, they hadn't told any of his siblings either. Why would they want to hide it though? Was it so the rest of them didn't worry? Was Ron sick? Was he dying? Were his parents trying to spare their other children the pain of watching their youngest brother's slow death?

Bill groaned in frustration, breaking the heavy silence. Thinking like that wouldn't do anyone any good.

"What should we do?" Charlie asked hesitantly, folding up the letter again and handing it back to Bill.

"We'll confront Mum and Dad when we get home, when we can get them alone. They'll be more likely to tell us," Bill explained as he gently placed the letter back into his pocket.

"Sometimes I really question why you weren't sorted into Slytherin," Charlie teased, managing to lighten the mood.

"You only say that because I'm smarter than you," Bill joked back.

"You are _not_!" Charlie exclaimed loudly in indignation.

"I'm not the one who hasn't cut their hair since Christmas," Bill laughed, "You know Mum's just going to chop it all off when she sees you."

"You're one to talk – you let your hair grow out as well. Looks like you're just as smart as I am," Charlie responded while absently tugging on his bright locks.

Bill smirked, "My hair looks like a completely reasonable length compared to yours. I won't be getting a trim this summer little brother."

Charlie's jaw dropped and he could only stare in shock as his older brother left the train compartment. Bill grinned slightly to himself, amused at the reaction he got. He really was feeling better knowing that he had Charlie on his side, and soon they would know what was really going on. _Soon._

* * *

The rest of the ride passed in a blur of nerves for Bill, he was mainly ignored by his friends once they realized he wasn't invested in any of the conversations. When the Hogwarts Express came to a halt, Bill was out of his seat, grabbing his trunk, and saying his quick farewells before jumping off the train to find his family. His anticipation of the upcoming conversation only increased when he discovered it was only his father that had come to pick him and Charlie up. He and his brother followed after their father towards the floo system, sharing an anxious glance before stepping into the green fire.

They were home.

Before he had a chance to brush off the soot clinging to his clothes, Bill was enveloped by his mother's arms. With a tight squeeze and a peck on the check, his mother was gone just as fast as she had appeared, off to hug Charlie who had appeared behind him. His mother was soon replaced by the small ginger horde that was his little brothers and sister. True joy filled him as he took in his family, Fred and George speaking a mile a minute and Percy trying to get a word in edgewise. Bill laughed as Ginny leapt into his arms, catching her and spinning her around before setting her safely down on the ground.

"Did you miss us?" Bill asked his sister, and she grinned up at him and nodded.

With a light push Bill sent his sister off to harass Charlie. Though it wasn't long until he had his arms full again with the twins. _Merlin, it's nice to be home. _As much as his kid siblings could annoy him Bill loved them, and he always would. Next was Percy who attempted to give his brother a "welcome home" handshake. Bill promptly ignored it and embraced his brother. It was only once Percy had pulled away that Bill noticed the oddities were continuing. There was Ron, standing away from his family and half-hidden behind the arm of the couch. He had his arms crossed tightly and was awkwardly shuffling forward and back as if he didn't know if he should join in the festivities. Bill wasn't having it.

"C'mere Ronnie," Bill prompted and opened his arms waiting for another hug.

The small red-headed boy immediately looked to his parents, seeking approval before he moved. With a small but sharp nod from Molly, Ron hesitantly walked over to Bill pausing before rushing into his arms and clutching his older brother with vigor.

"I missed you," Ron whispered, his quiet voice muffled by Bill's sweater.

"I missed you too Ronnie," Bill replied.

Ron felt so small in his arms, so breakable, and for some reason that only made Bill hold on tighter. Bill reluctantly pulled away from his brother and gave him smile.

"Aren't you gonna see Charlie, or was it only me you missed?" Bill asked jokingly and gave Ron a small poke to the stomach.

It had the desired effect; Ron's face brightened and he let out a giggle as he left to hug Charlie as well. His other siblings were starting to disperse, going back to whatever activity they were doing prior to the older Wealsey boys' arrival. Soon Ron was off too, and Bill and Charlie were left with their luggage.

"That was _not_ normal," Charlie muttered to Bill as they started dragging their trunks up the stairs.

"I know," Bill grunted as he heaved his burden over the last step onto the landing. He took a break to catch his breath, "After supper when the kiddies have gone to bed, we'll find out what's really going on."

"Right," Charlie said, and they continued on their way down the hall.

* * *

Supper was a loud affair. Not as loud as Bill was used to though. Sure, Percy was constantly pumping him and Charlie for information, Fred and George were rattling on about whatever mischief they had been up to, and Ginny was trying to show them all that she could now braid her own hair. Ron was silent, and Bill's parents were rather subdued themselves he noticed.

As the younger Weasley children gradually dispersed, Bill and Charlie helped with clearing the table. _Finally_, the two boys were alone with their parents in the kitchen. Knowing his siblings were preparing for sleep and he wouldn't be interrupted, Bill could no longer contain himself. So without a moment's pause he cut-off his mother's ongoing babble.

"Are you going to tell us what's going on here?" any nervous energy that he may have had before was quickly giving way to the intense frustration of not knowing _what_ was going on.

"I- I'm sure I don't know what you mean," his mother looked at him warily.

_She's not babbling anymore, _Bill noted internally when the room lapsed into silence.

"We, uhm… well Bill and I, no actually it was just Bill; he got this letter and, well – we read it, and," Charlie rambled nervously before giving up and sitting down at the table again across from his father. "You say it, Bill."

Bill's arms crossed tightly in front of himself, "We know something is wrong with Ron, we just don't know _what_. So tell us, what is it?"

"Bill, Charlie, you really shouldn't be worried-" Bill's mother was clearly nervous.

"Enough pretending Molly," Arthur spoke up from his place at the table, "We should tell them, we would've been telling Bill next year anyway. They're old enough, they can handle it."

Molly sent a nasty glare at her husband that only lasted a moment before her face crumpled. She looked tired, exhausted more like -if the bags under her eyes meant anything. Arthur pulled out the chair beside him and she let herself drop onto it, resting her face in her hands. Bill and Charlie exchanged confused looks as Bill sat himself at the table with his parents and brother.

Molly lifter her head to look at her two oldest, "Something _has _happened with Ron," she admitted.

"Nothing bad," Arthur added before any questions could be asked. "It's actually more of a gift really, as long as no one finds out. You two can't tell a soul about this, not your friends, not even your other brothers or Ginny; they're too young."

They had never seen their father look so serious. That foreboding feeling in Bill's gut only heightened in intensity. He gripped his elbows just a little bit tighter.

"A bit vague there Dad," Charlie prompted.

"To put it simply, Ron has the elemental power of fire," Arthur said plainly.

"Wait. I'm sorry, what? Are you telling me our baby brother can, what, control fire?" Bill asked in disbelief. Sure he lived in a world of magic but he had never heard of this happening. Only in the legends of Merlin was it ever even mentioned that having elemental power was possible – and they were just that: legends.

"We're working on the 'control' bit, but yes, you've got the right idea," Arthur said surprisingly calm.

This was _incredible_. Bill was having trouble wrapping his brain around it. Ron had fire powers. _Ron _had _fire _powers! But…

"How?" Bill wondered, still lost in awe.

"It's kind of a Weasley thing," Arthur explained, "It runs in the family."

That brought Charlie out of his stupor, "So we all have fire powers?" he excitedly gazed at his hands. "Wicked," he whispered.

"No. It's actually a very rare ability, there hasn't been anyone with the gift for generations," Arthur picked up again. "The Weasley bloodline has provided the greatest amount of fire users throughout time, leading all the way back to the time of Merlin. Back then it was more common to possess elemental abilities. Some families produced water users others earth and others air. Of course there were also other families than ours that had the capability to harness fire. As the years passed by the talent seemed to die out in the other bloodlines."

"But Ron has it… so it didn't die out in ours?" Bill queried.

"To be honest I did think that it had died out in our family as well. It appears I was wrong." Arthur sighed and scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

Bill's brain was running at an absurd pace trying to process all the new information. The whole thing was just so _out there_. Biting at one of his finger nails Bill pondered what he was just told. Number one; Ron controls (or will control) fire. Two; this is an ability passed down through blood. Three; there used to be more people like this but now there's not. The thing Bill still didn't understand was how he'd never heard of this. You'd think it would be celebrated, having some rare amazing power. Something his father said earlier came to mind _"-can't tell a soul about this." _ Why though? Was it always a secret? To Bill it seemed like every question answered left double the amount unanswered.

It looked like Charlie had come to the same conclusion. "Why haven't we heard about this? It seems like something we would learn about," Bill's brother asked, his face scrunched into a befuddled frown.

"A long time ago most people did know about it. Unfortunately, people are curious and that wasn't exactly a good thing for those with unique abilities. After a few incidents our ancestors finally decided to hide and protect themselves."

"I still don't understand, what incidents?" Charlie asked, leaning forward on the table with interest.

"They were captured and were used as test subjects until their deaths. All of them, any who had an inkling of elemental skill," Molly whispered, speaking for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. "Loved ones were never heard from again. It's like they never even existed, just wiped from the face of the earth. They never lasted long after they were taken in. They went in but they never came back out… not even the bodies. The bastards desecrated their corpses. They cut them open and… and… " she broke off with a quiet sob.

Arthur was quick to comfort his wife, wrapping an arm around her and rubbing her shoulder soothingly. Bill could tell by his father's grim face that everything just spoken was the truth.

Bill was horrified. Sure he knew that the ministry was capable of doing bad things, their prejudiced laws were enough proof of that. To do what his mother described though… that was unthinkable. _That would be genocide and torture all mixed into one. _

"I can't believe that," Charlie spoke looking pale and a little queasy.

"People don't like what they don't understand; it scares them, and with fear comes hate and anger," Arthur said solemnly.

"How do you know this?" Bill questioned his parents. "You said people were never heard from again so how do _you _know?"

Molly sniffled and wiped away some stray tears, obviously planning to answer the question. Bill waited impatiently, his heart was racing and it felt as though it might just jump out of his chest at any moment.

"I saw it through a memory," Molly's voice cracked with emotion as she spoke, "One of my ancestors worked as an unspeakable. Not with the elementals, something else – I don't know what. The ministry wanted to move him to that department though, he spent a day witnessing everything that happened there. Thank Merlin he didn't like what he saw. He- He extracted a copy of the memory to be viewed in a pensieve. He was going to use it as evidence but there was never any trial. He disappeared the next day."

Bill swallowed hard and looked away from his mother's haunted face, his eyes fixed on one of the many scratches on the table. He hadn't known what he was getting into when he asked his first question. His bright view of the world was quickly being ripped away to reveal a much darker place. He didn't like it. It was wrong, _so wrong_ but he had to live with it now.

"None of us ever knew what the memory was, we were very curious so one day my brothers and I – your late uncles that is – we went to see Dumbledore and he let us use his pensieve. I suppose it was just my luck that your father carries fire in his blood," Molly chuckled weakly and gave a watery smile to her husband.

"That was a long time ago that this happened right? You don't know if the ministry would still do… those things," Charlie said with new hope in his voice, sitting up from his defeated slouch.

Arthur shook his head, "We're not going to take that risk. They didn't purposely stop testing, their experiments all died. As far as I know the old protocols would still be used today."

"What about Ron? Are you sure he has this -ability or whatever?" Charlie asked sounding slightly desperate now.

Bill understood his brother, he was feeling the same way. That anxious butterfly feeling in his stomach was so strong it was almost painful. His palms tingled with nerves creating a stinging aching sensation that wouldn't go away no matter how he rubbed at them. It was one thing hearing about something terrible, knowing it involved his family brought it to a whole other level.

"We are most definitely sure. The flames Ron can produce are above any normal or magical fire. Its strength can't be matched, which is why it's so important for Ron to learn control. The fires can't be put out by magic or water, only Ron can diminish them," Arthur explained tiredly. "We've been taking him out to the lake, that way he can only boil water instead of accidently burning down the house."

"That's why you hired a sitter," Bill said in realization, they had come full circle in their conversation. "You're making sure that the rest of your kids don't find out."

His father answered with a simple, "Yes."

"What do we do now?" Charlie's voice seemed too soft for the amount of gravity that question held.

"Nothing," Molly said sounding pained, "Keep your brother's secret, and support him, talk to him. He's so afraid; he thinks he might hurt one of us."

Bill's mother was starting to look weepy again. Trying to take things in stride, Bill felt a fire build up inside him. Not a fire like what his brother could make, but a fire of determination, of stubbornness and protectiveness. That kind of fire was another trait passed down through the Weasley bloodline.

Bill grabbed his mum's hand and held it firmly in his, staring straight into her eyes as he spoke, "Ron is my brother, he will _always_ be my brother. Nothing can change that – especially not some weird fire ability. I will always look out for him. Don't worry Mum, Charlie and I will never let anything happen to him."

"He's right Mum. We're family – forever, no matter what," Charlie said with as much fortitude as his brother.

The four of them sat there at the kitchen table reveling in the comfort of family. This was more than Bill was ever expecting. His brother wasn't dying so that was a relief, but now the youngest had the potential to be in serious danger. Bill didn't like the idea of lying to his other siblings, he would do it though. He didn't have any other choice. It wasn't all bad, he would be sharing the burden.

He smiled. _We've got each other._

* * *

**a/n:** Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed or commented on the first chapter. I didn't really know what I was doing with the first chapter. I was thinking about just leaving it as it was. Thanks to all the amazing people who took the time to write down their thoughts I've decided to continue. I actually have all the rest of the chapters planned out.  
I'm not too happy with this one but I figured you've waited long enough.  
Virtual cookie to whoever spotted the line I kinda stole from Beauty and the Beast :)

OH! If anyone is wondering Ron's POV is finally coming up next chapter!

Please R&amp;R and have a great day!


	3. In The Beginning: Chapter 3

Weasley Genes

In The Beginning – Chapter 3

Song for this chapter is **Something Is Not Right With Me **by **Cold War Kids**

* * *

Ron walked stiffly down the empty Hogwarts corridor, his blood was boiling. This was_ not_ good. He could feel the flames licking at the back of his mind yearning to be released. Ron felt a surge of heat flow through his body. _Not good. Not good._

He increased his pace towards the Gryffindor common room. A left turn a short flight of stairs then a quick right and he would be standing in front of the Fat Lady. Ron needed to be away from the great hall right now. He was sure his friends would find it odd that he was skipping supper but there was absolutely no way he was going back in there in his current state.

He was up the stairs and around the corner as quick as a snap.

"Not attending the evening feast dear?" The Fat lady asked.

"Pig Snout," Ron ignored her.

"You really should eat, meal times are the most important parts of the day," she ignored him back.

"Pig snout," Ron said with force, "Pig snout. Pig snout. PIG. SNOUT." _Merlin_, he did not have time for this right now.

Finally the Fat Lady gave an offended sigh before granting him entrance to the empty Gryffindor tower. The painting slammed shut behind him and he couldn't stop the long glare he sent back at it. Ron snapped out of it pretty quickly when he noticed the sleeve of his robe was smoking.

"Noo, no, no, no, _no_!" He spoke in an odd combination of a whisper and a shout.

Ron's hand moved frantically over his sleeve trying to extinguish the small flame that was growing on his other arm. He gave a frustrated grunt as he placed a last slap over the fire and finally it died out. His relief only lasted for a second, in the next his entire arm burst into flames. Ron stared at the offending limb in shock; he hadn't been so out of control since he was nine years old and he'd accidently caused a small forest fire.

The smell of his burning clothes brought his attention back to the present.

"Merlin's beard!" he shouted loudly this time, uncaring of the Fat Lady who would be able to easily hear him – if she was still in her portrait that is.

Ron raced up the stairs to the shared first year bathroom, his arm held aloft in front of him. Heading into the nearest shower stall he turned on the water as cold as it would go and threw himself under the icy liquid. Ron leant back against the tiled wall, letting his head tip back under the water. Slowly he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his knees up to his chest. Ron gritted his teeth as he focused intensely on regaining control. His eyes scrunched up but he could still feel the explosive heat rushing around his arm.

Ron forced his mind to calm itself, allowing the frigid water to invoke memories of the past. When he was seven and his father's soothing voice comforted him as Ron sat in the lake trying to reign in the flames. The time Charlie gave him a hug after dumping a bucket of soapy water on his burning hair; Ron was so shocked and so afraid of hurting his brother the fire retreated as quickly as it had burst into life. Bill telling Ron he trusted him, _no matter what_.

Ron sighed in relief as he felt the angry bubbling of his blood cool down to its normal – slightly above average – heat. His face relaxed and he let his shoulders slump from their tense position. Opening his eyes Ron glanced at his arm which was no longer on fire. A shot of irritation ran through him as he realized there was none of the sleeve left to burn anyway. His arm was covered in a black ashy mess that was slowly washing away and down the drain.

"Great," Ron muttered, turning off the shower as he inspected the damage done to his clothes.

What once went down past his wrist now ended just above his bicep, Ron hoped that meant his mum could replace the sleeve and not have to buy a whole new robe. He was really tired of only causing destruction and costing his family much more than was his right. Ron pressed a hand to the wall to support himself as he jerked his body up from the floor. His wet clothing stuck to his skin, weighing down on him. His soaking shoes squelched as he exited the shower. His shoes were the first thing to come off and then he proceeded to shuck off the rest of his sopping clothes.

Ron grabbed one of the large fluffy towels sitting on the shelf and vigorously rubbed away all the water droplets left sitting on his skin. He hated having to douse himself with cold water but it always seemed to do the trick – it got rid of the flames. That's not to say that water could stop the fires he made, unfortunately neither water nor magic could do much. It was the shock of the temperature that helped him calm down and gain control. If Ron started the fire he was the only one who could end it.

It had frightened Ron when he first found out no one could help him if he lost control. It scared him actually. He hated being responsible for the practically invincible fires that would be produced by his magic. Ron didn't hate fire, he just hated _his_ fire. It was like a beast, always hungry and ready to destroy and kill everything in its path.

The only thing Ron actually enjoyed about his powers was that he could manipulate fire, not just his own. It was the only good thing he could relate to his abilities ever since that fateful day when he made an explosion in Fred and George's faces (the twins' expressions _were _pretty hilarious). During the summers before Bill left for Egypt and Charlie left for Romania, Ron would sit with his two eldest brothers around a secluded campfire and he would practice something other than putting out fires.

They would play.

Sometimes his brothers would suggest an animal or something and Ron would try to move the flames into the right shape. Ron found out very quickly that controlling natural fire was child's play compared to his own. After only a year he was able to make the flames dance, and take whatever form he pleased. Charlie loved when he would form a small flaming dragon that would fly around and spit out sparks. A new game was formed the day that little dragon snuck up to Bill and shocked him so badly he spit out a mouthful of hot chocolate all over it. To their surprise the dragon fizzled out of existence as soon as the hot drink came in contact with it. This evolved into Ron creating a small army of fire animals and Bill and Charlie drowning them out with small water squirting muggle devices their father had supplied them with. It was fun and freeing and for a little while Ron didn't resent his powers.

It made him feel special; the way Bill and Charlie would look on at the fire creatures in wonder. It made him think that maybe it wasn't really a curse, that it _was_ a gift. Then reality would crash down on Ron's shoulders whenever he felt his fire magic rearing its head, longing to be released. It was a constant challenge to keep his emotions from influencing his magic. He'd improved so much since he started training with it, now he could feel angry and still keep control most of the time – as long as he was conscious of his body's reactions he could handle it. Not today.

It was that bloody three-headed dog's fault. Meeting that thing by accident had scared him badly. He didn't have an incident though, not when he saw it, not when he was running from it, and not even when he finally got back to his dorm and anger started to mix with the fear. No, the problem came when he accidently fell asleep at the dinner table the next day while waiting for the food to arrive. He'd had a nightmare about that ridiculous dog that had absolutely no reason to be in Hogwarts as far as Ron was concerned. There was no possible way Ron could monitor his own body while he was unconscious, so when Harry nudged him awake he could already feel himself losing his firm grasp on the elemental magic. He'd made a pretty quick getaway, mumbling an excuse he couldn't remember before practically sprinting from the great hall.

He was sure he would regret that later.

Ron scrubbed the towel against his hair until it stopped dripping before he wrapped it securely around his waist. Gathering his wet clothes in his arms he moved to exit back into his shared dorm room. As soon as he crossed into the room he was met with the unpleasant surprise of company. He was right in assuming none of his dorm mates would be there, and to be honest he was fairly confused as to why Fred and George would be here; in his room, on his bed.

"Blimey, this is bouncy," George spoke while jumping on Ron's bed.

"Too true, Forge," Fred replied, also jumping on his little brother's bed, "Why aren't ours this bouncy?"

"These young ones nowadays; so spoiled," George clicked his tongue in mocking disapproval.

"Nah, it probably plays some role in a large conspiracy theory involving Ronniekins and his disturbing love of apple seeds," Fred said as the twins finally spotted Ron and continued to jump.

"That doesn't even make sense," Ron said with a roll of his eyes.

"Hmm, nope I'm pretty sure it does," Fred retorted with an overly pleased grin, there was no way you could beat the twins once they'd moved past logic.

"Fine, now get off the bed," Ron demanded, but it didn't do any good as his brothers only bounced higher.

Ron threw his bundle of wet clothes on his bed aimed at his brothers' feet. The articles separated and bounced upon the bed, moving towards wherever the twins' weight landed.

"Eugh," Fred let out the noise of disgust as he attempted to kick off the cold wet pants that kept getting closer each time he jumped.

Mattresses are not known for being stable surfaces on which to jump, and so it was no surprise to Ron when in the midst of his kicking Fred lost his balance and tumbled backwards into his identical brother. George swore as he was squashed beneath Fred with one of Ron's wet socks stuck between his face and the bed. The two scrambled around until they managed to break apart from each other then proceeded to position themselves comfortably against the headboard.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked in exasperation, crossing his arms as he came to the realization that the twin pranksters would not be leaving.

"Obviously we came to test the bounciness of the first year beds," George said plainly while flicking Ron's damp jumper off of the bed.

"Next we're off to investigate the second year beds for fluffiness," Fred joined the conversation, a mischievous grin on his face.

Ron remained silent, staring at his brothers, face blank and wholly unimpressed.

"It's almost like he doesn't believe us, Gred," George said, twisting his face into pained expression.

"No. You're right Forge," Fred gave an obnoxiously loud sniffle. "I can't believe it, our own brother!"

Ron was proud of himself for staying silent and keeping his face blank. It was never easy with the twins; whether they were being funny or more often (in Ron's opinion) annoying. He knew that if he spoke now the twins would manage to twist the conversation to their wills and he'd never get his question answered.

Fred and George stared back at him for a moment, waiting for some kind of reaction. Fred's eye was beginning to twitch at the inaction, so naturally he decided that he should push off the rest of his little brother's clothes onto the floor. It did not get the reaction he was hoping for. Fred and George were disappointed when instead of bursting out into angry shouts as their hotheaded brother was prone to; he just collected his clothes and put them in the overflowing hamper next to his bed.

That was when something strange caught George's eye. Ron's robe was on the very top of the pile but that wasn't what he was concerned about. Pulling out the still damp robe George inspected the missing arm, his twin joining him upon noticing the oddity of the missing sleeve.

George looked up and raised an eyebrow at Ron "Had a little accident did we?" he asked casually.

"What are you doing here?" Ron repeated his earlier question, his nerves felt frayed and he really didn't feel like dealing with anyone at the moment –especially his troublemaking siblings.

"Did you…" Fred hesitated, his mouth forming a small frown. "Did you burn off your sleeve?"

Ron felt blood rush to his face, heating it up like a bad sunburn. _Nope, _he decided- _I definitely do not want to have this conversation. _

"Was it your… You know-" George started.

"Fire powers?" The twins asked in unison.

If Ron's face wasn't red before it certainly was now. He made a grab for the damaged robe but George quickly pulled it out of his reach. Now Fred and George were waiting for their answer.

"It's nothing," Ron muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

The twins and Percy had only learned of Ron's abilities that year when he entered his first year at Hogwarts. His parents had reasoned that Bill and Charlie could know when they asked because they were of age or almost of age. Percy, Fred, and George had only been told that summer so they could keep an eye out for their youngest brother at school.

Percy had not taken it too well initially. He refused to speak to anyone for three days; he spent his time locked up in his room thinking. After all, this had to mean one of two things to Percy; either Ron possessed a rightly illegal ability or the Ministry was not all that he had imagined. After the third day Percy came to the conclusion that maybe the ministry _used _to be a bit out of sorts, but it had all been resolved. So really -there was no reason to be so worried about people discovering Ron's abilities. He was acting so casually about the whole thing that the Weasley parents were at a loss about how to get the serious Percy to take this matter _seriously_. When he almost let the cat out of the bag during a conversation with Ginny, his mother spent a good three hours shouting at him (after Ginny had been sent to the Lovegood's of course). That was the first and, hopefully, last time Percy got into trouble. Needless to say he didn't mention it again after that.

Ron never really talked about his "gift" to the twins or Percy. They didn't understand -how could they? They weren't there to see him struggle or learn, they were just told of it one day. Percy never spoke of it to him and he was too busy with his own stuff to bother with Ron. The twins though, they were curious.

In a truly ironic fashion Fred and George took the information seriously, they were very careful about keeping Ron's secret. They looked at him differently though, it was as if Ron was a whole new person and not someone they had lived with for the past eleven years. Ron tended to avoid the twins even before they were told; he was after all one of their favourite prank victims. He avoided them even more now, uncomfortable with the inquisitive looks they sent his way. It wasn't that Ron didn't trust his brothers but he didn't want to talk about it. His fire magic was a sensitive subject, it would mean talking about his feelings – and Ron does not talk about emotions with the twins.

Ron did not like the direction the conversation was heading – _at all._

"Right," Fred started.

"-burning your sleeve right off," George added, holding up the robe as if Ron had forgotten what they were talking about.

"-that's nothing," Fred deadpanned.

Ron's anger spiked, he took a deep breath to calm himself. He just had an outburst he did not need another one.

"It's nothing," Ron said lowly.

"Are you kidding?" George burst out, looking quite agitated.

"You burnt. Off. Your. Sleeeeeve," Fred spoke slowly, looking a little angry himself at Ron's denial.

"I know what I did! I'm telling you it was nothing," Ron's voice gained volume as his frustration heightened.

Acutely aware of the fact he was only in a towel and deciding he wasn't going to deal with Fred and George, Ron strode to his cabinet, yanking open the top drawer and pulling out his pajamas. Turning his back to the twins Ron headed back towards the bathroom.

"Hey," Fred yelled and slid off the bed to stand angrily.

"We're not done talking, and burning your clothing to the point that it disintegrates is _not _nothing!" George was standing now too.

Ron's shoulders were tense as he halted himself, he turned back to look at his brothers. He vaguely noted they looked about as volatile as him. Another thing Weasleys had in common; their explosive tempers.

"It _is _nothing! Compared to what I can do, what I _have _done, this is nothing," Ron shouted back at the twins.

His blood was boiling.

"Dammit Ron! Why can't you just tell us what's wrong?" Fred's face was turning red he was so angry.

"We're worried about you," George's voice had taken on a soothing tone in an attempt to ease some of the tension. "Please Ron."

"Why would I tell the likes of you two," Ron bit out harshly, ignoring the flash of pain in their eyes.

Spinning around Ron continued on his way to the bathroom, concentrating all of his willpower on keeping the fire in. Fred moved forward to catch Ron, fed up with his attitude.

"We are your brothers," Fred's voice was intense, but Ron didn't respond.

He had almost made it to the door when he felt a hand grab his shoulder.

"Shit," Fred cried out, yanking his hand away from Ron's skin, it was like touching a hot oven.

Guilt jerked in Ron's stomach, tilting his back over his shoulder to observe Fred's now bright angry pink palm and fingers. His heart dropped down to his feet, he had burnt his brother – a minor burn but still…

"Just go," Ron whispered before slipping through the door and slamming it behind him.

Ron found himself on the floor again, leaning against the door, his pajamas crumpled up between his stomach and legs. Ron let his head drop to his hands and clutched his hair. He wasn't feeling that fire anymore, just an empty coolness. _Stupid feelings. Stupid fire powers._ It was then that he realized why the twins were jumping on his bed; they had come to check on him. And didn't that just make him feel like an even bigger jerk.

* * *

Ron wasn't avoiding the twins. Nope, he was just busy, he had homework to do. Yeah, that's it, Ron was too busy doing homework and _that's _why he hadn't spoken to Fred or George in two weeks.

Ron sighed and scuffed his shoe against the floor. He was sitting in the Gryffindor common room waiting for Harry and Hermione to return from the library. So maybe he _was _avoiding his brothers, he just didn't know how he could fix things. Ron slumped back until he sunk slightly into the fluffy chair. Now that he thought about he really should be working on his homework. He gave a longing glance at the wizards chess board he had set up on the short table in front of the fire. He didn't _want _to do his homework. Ron groaned stuck between doing what he should and doing what he wanted. Luckily he was saved from making that decision when Fred and George passed the Fat Lady and entered the room.

Ron straightened up quickly, jumping of the chair and walking briskly for the stairs.

He swore he _wasn't _avoiding his brothers. He wasn't.

"Woah there," Fred called out rushing after Ron.

"Where do you think you're going?" George asked assisting his twin as they cut Ron off before he could reach the stairs.

"Homework," Ron said the first thing that came to his mind, staring at Fred and George with wide eyes waiting to see what they would do.

Sharing disbelieving looks, the twins replied with great sarcasm, "Right."

Before he could protest Ron found himself in the grips of Fred and George. Each twin grasped an arm and dragged Ron out of the common room. Out through the portrait hole the three brothers went and on down the hall garnering some strange looks.

Once his initial shock had disappeared Ron struggled to get his arms free, but the twins held tight. He was dragged around a corner then pulled over to a shadowy wall by a large portrait of the African Savanna. Ron opened his mouth to question his brothers but they shushed him quite loudly, George slapped a hand over Ron's mouth for good measure. Rolling his eyes Ron decided to just wait and see where this was going.

After a small group of Ravenclaws had passed leaving the hall empty, Fred took out his wand and tapped it twice on the bottom right-hand corner of the frame. To Ron's surprise the painting swung open revealing a passageway similar to one leading into Gryffindor house's domain.

Fred took the lead, pulling himself up onto the ledge then turning back to help George maneuver Ron up. It wasn't that difficult, Ron was curious as to what lay beyond. The portrait slammed shut behind them as the three of them crawled for a couple feet until the cramped passage opened up into a small circular stone room.

"What's this all about then?" Ron asked distantly as he gazed around the dark room, the only light being filtered in from the ceiling enchanted to look like the night sky.

"We're gonna have ourselves some fun," Fred spoke from the other side of the room, bent over something with his twin.

"That's right," George said excitedly, "We're going to have an indoor camp fire!"

They turned around showing off what they had obviously prepared beforehand. Fred was holding three large overly stuffed cushions and George had in his arms a bag of marshmallows and three long slender twigs to roast them on. Both of them grinned expectantly at Ron. It was then that he noticed the small pile of chopped lumber already positioned in the center of the room.

Fred divided up the cushions, passing one to George and tossing one to Ron as well. The twins immediately plopped themselves down.

"Well sit down," George ushered Ron, already pushing a marshmallow onto a stick.

Ron gaped at them slightly before doing as they ordered and sitting down. George handed him a stick with a marshmallow poking off the end. Ron sat in baffled silence, eyes focused on the marshmallow. He had not anticipated this.

"Well go on then," Fred prompted.

Ron's head shot up and his vision locked in on the sight of the twins looking at, waiting impatiently, "Er- What?"

"Start the fire, stupid," George said with a large amount of sass.

Ron threw him a filthy look, but soon found himself stuck in a stare off between himself and the twins. They didn't intimidate him into doing it. No, it was the honest _caring_ expressions on their identical faces that made him light the fire, just not in the way he knew they wanted him to.

Grabbing his wand out of his pocket Ron muttered a quiet, "_Lacarnum Inflamarae_."

The wood burst into happy orange flames, lighting up the room with its warm glow. The logs crackled and popped and Ron closed his eyes for a moment listening to the cheery sounds. The spell had come easily for him, when Hermione had taught him and Harry. She had been so surprised when Ron had gotten it right off the bat.

"That isn't exactly-"Georg began.

"What we had in mind," Fred finished.

Ron snorted, "I know what you wanted. I'm not creating a fire, mine are dangerous. You should remember that from what Mum and Dad told you," he said seriously.

George and Fred looked at him in contemplation, then after having a silent conversation with just facial expressions and small gestures they decided on their next course of action.

"Bill said you could make little, um… fire animals?" George asked hesitantly.

"You've been talking to Bill about me?" Ron said sounding highly unimpressed and a more than a little upset over the idea of his brothers talking about him behind his back.

"What else were we supposed to do Ron?" Fred asked defensively. "We're supposed to be looking out for you but you won't even talk to us about it."

Ron's irritation drained away before it had a chance to make an appearance, "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Wait, what?" Fred's voice was coloured with surprise, obviously assuming this would be a repeat of their last conversation.

"I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have snapped at you two before," Ron said awkwardly while clutching at his marshmallow stick.

"You're forgiven," George spoke earnestly.

"And… and I'm sorry about your hand Fred," Ron forced out, uneasy even acknowledging the fact he had hurt his brother.

Fred's eyebrows rose up dramatically, "What? That? Are you kidding me? I didn't even have to go Madam Pomfrey. My hand was back to normal in a day." Fred flapped his hand around in the air to prove his point.

"Still," Ron said, "I hurt you. I-"

"Is that why you're so grumpy?" George interrupted, "You're afraid to what, mortally wound us?" he asked in a joking manner.

"I could though! Don't you understand, I could kill you without even meaning to," Ron's voice dropped. "I have trouble controlling it sometimes," he admitted, "What would happen if I had another nightmare and I didn't wake up in time? I could start a fire that would burn down everything around me and not even notice. What kind of monster would do that? And that's what I am, isn't it? I'm a monster."

Ron's eyes were stinging as he held back the tears that his admission brought, he kept his eyes pointed upwards to keep them from falling. Without noticing, his twin brothers appeared on either side of him.

Fred grabbed one of Ron's hands gaining his attention. Once he was looking his little brother straight in the eye he spoke, "You are not a monster, Ron. You're a Weasley. You're our brother."

"And nothing," George continued after his brother, speaking firmly, "will ever change that."

Ron was astounded. He'd never voiced his inner thoughts to anyone and he hadn't intended to here either. Hearing his brothers say that, it made him feel safe, it made him feel like he belonged somewhere, because he _was _a Weasley.

Fred gave his hand a squeeze and George gave his shoulder a rub before they moved back to their cushions.

"Now can you make fire animals or not?" George demanded with a smile, pointing with his stick and subsequently marshmallow.

Ron's face brightened, "Yeah, watch."

Ron concentrated on the image in his mind and a few seconds later a little rabbit was bouncing through the air as Fred and George watched in awe. With a grin Ron sent the bunny whizzing around George's marshmallow, toasting it to a perfect golden.

"Brilliant," George said with a huge smile on his face, and when Ron met his eyes he could tell George was talking about more than just the marshmallow.

* * *

**a/n **Holy cow guys! Okay firstly, I want to thank everyone who left a review, followed or added this story to their favourites. You are all amazing and the fuel that makes me write! I also have to apologize for any mistakes, I'm about to leave for a two week course where I won't have access to a computer. So I worked my butt off to finish this and now I have to leave in about 20 minutes so I'm just scrambling to get everything done. This came first though! Also, don't worry about the next chapter being late because I'm away, I've got it covered ;)

I have more to say but I've got no more time! I hope you enjoy!

Please review! Hugs and virtual high-fives all around.


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